SEX IS JUST A WORD [Excerpt From Untameable Infatuation Series]

1. THE NAKED BLONDE

This was really happening, we were finally here. New York—concrete jungle and all that—I could feel it, the energy crackling around us. It was exhilarating to simply stand amongst it. Swarms of strangers rushed along the chockablock streets; hailing taxis, crossing roads and dodging traffic. I couldn't see myself keeping up with their practiced pace of daily commute. Scaling the city's skyline I allowed my eyes to once again linger on our new apartment building.

The building itself stood twenty floors high, with massive crystalline window panels lining the exterior. Suggesting both architectural and design brilliance throughout. The interior dripped with modern sleek and elegance. From the signature charm that lingered on every subtle detail, I knew this was another one of Mr Quinn's masterpieces. Whether it was classical or modern and with the times, the man could capture perfection and trap it within the solidified walls of a building.

"Bean! Hello. Earth to Bean, wanna give me a hand with the doors? Charlie!" Blake's impatient nudging, against my ribcage, snapped me from my intense admiration of our new home. The bastard had at some point designated to superintend our first big move into adulthood. Smiling in awe I returned to reality, opening one of two large glass doors and bracing it with my backside, I awkwardly sank low enough to retrieve one of the boxes labeled BLAKE'S SHIT up off the pavement. All in all Blake and I were well mannered—brought up with admirable Campbell morals—however, on the odd occasion, we often forgot or rather stowed our grace and resorted to bluntness.

"Well if you would have spared at least the doorman, when rounding up the entire building's staff to help us move in, then you'd have someone to get the door for you; your highness." I pointed out, accompanied by a half-arsed curtsy.

"Did I give you permission to address me peasant? Lower your eyes and beg for forgiveness, I may consider overlooking this insolence." Chuckling, I struggled to bow a second time with the load cradled in my arms. "Much better." He huffed in an exaggerated, wealthy tone. Snorting out a mock laugh, he rolled his baby blue eyes, then proceeded to march into the lobby. Shaking my head with amusement, I rearranged the box in my small arms.

I'd first met Blake in first grade, elementary school. We'd been planting bean plants in class, Mrs Craft had partitioned for our early introduction to acquiring a green thumb, I unfortunately couldn't seem to adopt the natural skills required to plant beans. Watching my classmates' bean plants sprout, on the day we were to unveil them to other classes, when mine remained a terracotta pot filled with dirt and bean pips I began to cry. Full blown tears. Blake had first noticed me then, coming to my rescue he tore a piece of paper out of his sketch book and proceeded to write both our names on it. Sticking the tag he'd crafted with bright crayons on the front of his pot, he dragged me to his table as students made their rounds.

My best friend, my big brother...my family. Blake and the Campbell's were my second chance at life. I saw no difference between them and my late parents, nor would I ever regard them as anything less. Allowing the door to swing shut, I fluidly stepped into the building and made my way across the white-veined marble floors, elbowing the call button for the elevator I awaited the carts descent. Blake's parents had bought him one of two apartments on the twentieth floor, as a graduation present, their crazy way of congratulating him on his achievements. Deep down I was positive this was Beth and Richi's way of giving us both a present. They were always careful about offending me when it came to support, financially. I knew it made them uncomfortable whenever I refused their extravagant gifts, but it never felt right to take advantage of their generosity.

Initially Blake wasn't all that keen on leaving Seattle; if it hadn't of been for my callback from Quinn Industries Inc—an internationally renowned enterprise that holds impressive stakes in countless luxury and recreational industries—he'd have refused the gift outright and rallied for a new gallery back home. Applying for the internship at Quinn Industries had been a long shot, I wasn't interested in the shares the company held in luxury hotels and high end night clubs globally, but rather the architectural design side of things. To work with some of the biggest names and talent, that was my dream. To tell my story through the art of design and construction, to build something lasting. From a young age I'd found myself seeking a home, a place to forget the pain of my loss and in doing so I found a purpose. A passion that fuels my goals.

Someday, I'd design the perfect home...for those without one. Not just the four walls crafted from plaster and brick but a place that gives children like me a second chance. Every room will welcome their innocent memories, the warmth protecting them and promising to keep away the soul sucking loneliness the world has shackled them with. Somewhere anyone can belong.

Subconsciously I'd stepped into an empty elevator cart, the smooth copper doors slid shut allowing me to inspect my melancholy features. Propping the box up with one knee, I trapped it between my side and the bronze metal bar attached waist high to the right hand side of the elevator wall. Hastily wiping away several stray tears I prayed my eyes weren't a tell tale red; ruining this step in our lives for either Blake or myself was in a way selfish. We'd left a lot behind in Seattle, good and bad...it was time to begin this new chapter in our lives.

Blake had made an effort to change his outlook on our relocation to New York and if I wasn't mistake, he was now more excited than I had been. He'd bought a small gallery about fifteen minutes away from the apartment where he plans on showcasing his artwork. He has yet to hear back from the New York Academy of Arts, where he'd applied for a teaching position. Art was his passion and he would continue to make it regardless of ever breaking into the big times, teaching was a way to step into the world of professionals and still be surrounded by what he loved.

I was still trying to wrap my head around that one. Blake was a straight forward, no bullshit type of guy—granted he was the smartest guy I knew—I mean prefect GPA, high achieving kind of smart; but both his patience and focus left a lot to be desired. The elevator's ping drew my attention, prompting the juggling act it was to adjust the heavy box in my arms. As I exited the spacious cart I bit back a string of curses, blocking my path was a box Blake had carelessly left there. Bending slightly I read the thick penned label on the side. "Mother fucker..." I seethed.

Before I could even straighten I was knocked on my arse by what had to have been a goddamn linebacker, crashing to the floor I cursed loudly. "Fuck! Watch it!" My enraged fist pump was cut short by the image of a butt naked, blonde bombshell—hysterically jabbing at the elevator button. My mouth hung agape as the stunning goddess hurdled into the cart, frantically wiping at her tear stained cheeks; tugging on a long white business shirt. Shoving my astonishment, at the slender woman's strength, aside I shook my head. I felt for her and loathed the bastard who'd ruthlessly played with her emotions, simultaneously.

Lightly caressing my throbbing arse, I scowled at the closing copper doors—marking her dramatic exit. Heartbroken or not, the woman had wounded my tender cheeks and that was inexcusable. Blowing the several strands of escaping hair out of my eyes, I winced.

"You alright?" The warm lashes of a husky voice kissed at the exposed base of my neck, shuddering at the deep sensuality that chased away the silence I closed my eyes. My skin heated as a large strong hand wrapped around my arm, above the elbow. Opening my eyes I watched a second hand lower— hovering in front of me—accepting his outstretched offering, I allowed the sexy stranger to help me off the floor. Sucking in a sharp breath, I caught myself before I moaned, the simple fastening of his grip had my body wound embarrassingly tight.

I was met with an exquisitely bare, muscular chest. Greedily breathing in the irresistible scent, lingering on his glistening skin, I shifted several times. "You didn't answer me." The voice prompted with a deep air of authority. Shamelessly ogling the Demigod I had the fortune to be in the presence of, I took in every inch of his chiseled perfection—finally making eye contact with the two haunting deep blue orbs, staring down at me.

I managed to squeak out a few words, despite the intensity of his blatant stare."Hot-" choking on my words, I stammered, "-I meant fine! I'm fine, thanks." I rushed the disastrous response out on a single breath. Fuck...what is wrong with you? My subconscious jeered, embarrassed by my behaviour.

The stranger's inviting lips curved into a slow, sensual smile. Glancing down at his hands still on me, I nervously glanced towards the elevator. My body flushed with arousal and somehow I was sure that this man wouldn't miss a single signal my body decided to reveal. A rather sobering image of the naked blonde that had barged past me had me relapsing from meeting the perfect specimen of a man real damn quick. Stitching together several obvious details I abruptly—and admittedly reluctantly—shoved out of his hold. "Jerk." I seethed, suddenly skeptical about his reasons for assisting me earlier.

The brief knot of confusion on his features smoothed to reveal a knowing smirk, clearly he'd realised that I put together the naked blonde and this assholes relationship—the fucker was actually proud of himself. Taking a few easy retreating steps, he folded his arms over his chest. I almost groaned at the sight of his biceps contracting, becoming deliciously defined. Leaning into the doorjamb, his legs crossed at the ankles; the action alone had me looking away. The man was disarmingly handsome, I couldn't help but fantasise about all the naughty things he'd do to me—if given half a chance.

"It's quite judgmental to simply assume, the guy hurt the girl." He informed obnoxiously calmly. It took every ounce of strength I possessed to force a scowl in his direction, I think I was in physical pain. "I could just as easily have been the victim..." He purred. Gritting my teeth, I felt a strong sense of annoyance creep through my palms. Sexy as he was, I was beginning to dislike my new neighbour. His lack of morals had my fingers shooting up into my palms.

Stepping back, I threw my hands up into a defensive position. "No judgment." I scoffed, my body language giving away my sarcasm and disgust. "My conclusion may have been drawn from the river of tears the woman had been drowning in, smart arse." Dropping my hands to my hips I laughed once without humour. "Or perhaps her hysterical and nude exit. Or even-"

"Alright already." Cutting me off with a husky chuckle, he surrendered with an intrigued grin. "But, in my defence she knew my intentions from the start. It was a mutual agreement, sweetheart." My jaw dropped, an arrangement—fuck this guy was the ultimate pig.

"Clearly she didn't know your intentions were to break her heart." I seethed, entertaining the thought of slapping this jackass.

"My intentions were to fuck her, hard..."